


Devour

by Shocotate



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Bad Ending, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Promised Day, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, loss of personality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-23 04:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12498844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shocotate/pseuds/Shocotate
Summary: When Pride eats Gluttony, he gains his sense of smell, and his ravenous hunger. The hunger is nothing he cannot handle, of course, merely a slight inconvenience.Pride is wrong.Written for FMAHalloween, Day 1 Trick Theme: Metamorphosis.





	Devour

**Author's Note:**

> The minute I write a nice post-promised day AU for once, Halloween comes along with a theme like this and drags me to write another ‘horrible things happen to Pride if the homunculi won’ fic. Damn it, I will never be this mean to Pride again, I promise! 
> 
> Everyone, please read After the End, too, it’s nice and cute.
> 
> On another note, this is my first time writing present tense for a long time, so I hope this experimental writing at least sorta worked!
> 
> Written for FMAHalloween, Day 1 Trick Theme: Metamorphosis.

**_Wow, this is convenient. It’s quite simple to distinguish your scents…_ **

**_Although the hunger that came with the ability seems like it’ll be a pain._ **

Gluttony gouges his insides.

Pride knows it is more the nature of his Sin than any posthumous spite on his dull witted brother’s part, but even so this wretched hunger gnaws at him. On the Promised Day he could effortlessly ignore it, so many parts to play in Father’s Plan, but now, in the tranquil peace of his Father’s triumph it makes itself known, and he can acknowledge its _other_ side effect as well.

The eldest runs his finger over his razor sharp teeth, like Greed’s once were, nothing like the flat teeth that Father had bestowed upon him. Disgusting pointed teeth like an _animal,_ an insult to Father’s original form _._ This… this is harder to ignore.

He pushes it from his mind. When Father returns he will surely remove Gluttony from him and they will revert to their flat, flawless selves, he is certain. This irksome appetite will also subside, but that is a _lesser_ concern, compared to his appearance as Father’s firstborn.

Until then, Pride clinically clears the bodies of the dead from Central; Father would not want their filthy corpses littering the streets. Pride feels nothing when he gnashes them to bits, only the hollow pang of how little they fill him. His cold darkness flares, craving the hot flesh of humans that made it _feel_.

There is one he devours whole, reverently. Why is it _here_? How? It makes no sense…but there’s no need to dwell upon it. He embraces it, for just a moment, before lowering it into his waiting mouth. It slips into the abyss of the False Gate. Pride returns home, and sleeps to forget. Father will wake him once he returns.

Gluttony bites him awake, crying out to _feed._ Pride covers his eyes, whining, rolling onto his side. An unbearable pressure builds in the hollow where his stomach would be, and he cannot suppress his shameful reactions to the pain, gasping quiet gasps behind his hand. The incessant pressure spreads upwards, stabbing his chest from inside like his own shadowed blades, or--

The bonelike fangs of the False Gate burst from the container, unnatural ribs raking the floor of Father's lair. A rush of air tears a chunk from Father’s stairs.

 **“W-What?! What’s…?!”** Pride likewise oozes out from the container through its feet, assessing the damage. The container does not attempt to regenerate, as if there is _nothing_ amiss. The shadow needn’t breathe, yet now it breathes raggedly, eyes wide, hysterical. Parting the _bones_ , Pride gazes down at himself, at the Eye of the False Gate. It looks just like his shadow’s eyes…

Pride stabs the horrible thing out, his inky tendrils coiling around the ribs, snapping them off, but they spark and grow instantly, as if they’re actually a _part_ of him now. A long ripple of revulsion passes through him, at the desecration of his perfect container in this way. Father must not see it.

The container feels off balance, heavy with such a burden. It cannot walk.

It’s nothing, nothing he cannot handle. Pride leaves his container to stare out aimlessly, mouth gaping, its repulsive ribs taut and twitching, and stretches his true form to Father’s library. Though it does not cry out, he must still feed his mind.

Pride delves into the books, longing for something, anything to distract him.

This is fine. Everything is going to be fine.

* * *

 Time passes, how long Pride cannot tell, but still he hungers. How did Gluttony _stand_ this? Then again, Gluttony had a whole country of fat, warm humans with soft skin to feed on, and the corpses of their cast off pawns to clean up.

Pride rests on the floor, preparing to swallow another district. Soon enough the entirety of Central will be clear, ready for Father’s return. Father will be most pleased, Pride tells himself, and it’s almost enough to distract from his starvation. Almost. Despite himself, the thought of even a single warm human to feed on sounds so painfully intoxicating.

Beside him, the container whines, hugging its aching belly tight, keeping the Gate at bay with its small arms. Pride smiles to himself, reaching forward and stroking it softly. It looks _normal_ _again_ , outside its torn clothing, with its fluffy hair, slender fingers, its pink, _plump_ cheeks...

He strokes it more, feeling its feigned, growing heat.

Pretty container.

Its hot breath pours out from perfect flat teeth, a little quicker.

Looks so good.

Jagged teeth rake oh so _gently_ before sinking in and the container moans and shudders, milky flesh all flush and warm. It stares up with its cloudy eyes, mewls something, over and over and over and—it doesn't matter.

The Gate rises up around him. **Go away!** With a single thought Pride slices the obscene bones with his blades and tosses them aside. Inside, he knows if they didn't dissolve he would lunge after them and suck out the marrow.

**Disgusting.**

_Delicious._

Artificial skin flakes into thick powder beneath him. No, no no! Not yet! He seeps higher, crunching into its chest, feeling it jerk and buckle beneath his crushing jaws. No blood, of course. The cold fluid of his insides floods into him, and Pride's unfeeling shadow explodes into ecstasy.

He clamps down harder, convulsing with euphoric agony as he slurps the dark liquid of his core. No taste but so, so _good_. No more hushed, blissful whimpers, the container and shadow shriek together, the two tones bleeding into horrific music.

From his container, Pride caresses his abhorrent teeth, watching the digits disappear into his own yawning mouth. He pants, his childlike face twisting through the pain.

Is this what Gluttony felt? When--

**Do not think of it.**

His insatiable insides scream _devour,_ consume his perfect container. Bite through it; tear it apart, just like…

Pride claws its soft looking cheeks, dragging out the shade within. He grinds those beautiful ivories to ebony dust...

Until there’s nothing left.

 **“Haaah…”** The unbound shadow exhales the dust of the container's hair as it gathers itself into a single, quivering mass. Satisfied at last, it nuzzles against Father’s chair, drowsy, even. Perhaps now it can sleep. Pride sinks, seeping into the floor as a puddle, no container to nestle in. Tensing, it wills itself to regenerate; the crimson sparks sear its oversensitive body.

It tries to imagine that human shape, force itself smaller, recreate its container and feast upon it again. The poisonous thoughts bleed into fiercer, more desperate voracity.

Spark, sparks…the frantic, naked shadow sparks until it passes out.

* * *

Pride bathes in starlight, watching its prey with dozens of narrowed, magenta eyes.

The city bustles once more, a hum on the air that it cannot understand. No matter, these new humans with their strange clothes and strange tongues are just as succulent as the Amestrians it has devoured for centuries. Its teeth clatter in anticipation, saliva oozing out the gaps, and down, down, drenching the pavement.

No more container, no more troublesome Gate to burst up through it. If the bones still splay themselves, they do so _inside_ its depths. Drip, drip. Its tender shadow oozes, too, and the droplets rise like smoke as they disintegrate. Pride tenses itself again. Sometimes its dripping reveals itself too soon, scaring prey away. A twinge of shame pours through it.

Not important right now, not with freshest squirming prey in its grasp. Its so many sharp hands dig into it. Hunt. Eat. Eat more. Sleep. Life seems so much simpler now. It thinks it could get used to this, at least until Father—

It blinks, confused.

_Fa-ther?_

**Father!**

Pride jolts out of its daze. Yes… soon Father will grace these pathetic creatures. It pictures him in its mind, yearning. Not the form Pride had known for so long, or his shadow. No, the form Father had chosen for himself, his form as a God.

The glorious image blurs, it cannot see him as it longs to, _any_ of him. It should be burned into its psyche, even from that glimpse upon the Promised Day. How could it possibly forget something so precious? Pride quashes its shudder before it can form, its eyes screw shut. It has not _forgotten_.

It only need be patient, be a dutiful child and rid Central of these irksome humans until Father’s return, and then Father will…

Father…When Father sees _Pride_ , his firstborn, like this…

_EAT_

The hunger purrs, and Pride obliges the impulse, shredding the human’s soft skin, letting the angry spurts of blood coat it.

* * *

It rests against ch…ch… _chair,_ warmth rippling across it, some distant thought reaching it. The word rolls around in its mind, it practises sounding it out, and drawls it to the open air.

 **“Ch- _aiiir.”_**              

Important, empty chair. Still so empty but soon it won’t be.

 **“F…Fa…”** The sound sends delighted thrills along it. Soon _he_ will be here and it will _EAT HIM._ Yes, it will gorge itself on the golden man, forever and ever. He will take this hunger away…and taste better than any human, or its own inky form.

Hungry again, always hungry. Thinks of moving. It hopes for soft pale light that doesn’t hurt, when it ventures aboveground. Silly humans above call it a funny name, and it swells with satisfaction that they do not _deserve_ to know its true name.

Its name...

P-pr...

P...

…

Hissing, it skulks off to hunt, trailing black from its body, leaking like sores.

* * *

Food came to _it_ for once.

Food caught in its jaws squeals about "Ou-row-bow-russ", a great serpent living in the darkness. The shadow ripples, loosing a deep, bestial rumble over the threat of losing its territory. It sniffs for it and finds nothing but the stench of blood. Squeezed food too hard. It gulps down rest of food, curls in its nest and gnaws further into wisps of its shadowy flesh, looping around and around.

It sleeps, sleeps…sleeps for what feels like forever… dreams of…eating. Something so far away lived in dark, too, sleeping. Did it? Can’t think…don’t remember…

Something burning bright in shadow. Weak shadow wakes, starving, but so hard to stay awake now.

Look, look see. Open so many eyes to see.

Stone, pretty Stone bobbing inside it. It goes thump thump like food and glows so red like blood.

No hands anymore, it slithers on its watery belly. It drags itself closer by its teeth, chewing chunks from the floor.

Other shadow inside, eyes and teeth and delicious darkness inside. Bite through Stone and swallow, swallow it up!

Desperate shadow shakes, excited, exhausted, drooling long thick globs over the Stone, catching the red light. Too bright, pain!

Trapped shadow in Stone stares back, winces at bright light like it does.

It blinks and drools more. Strange, it almost thinks. It cannot _think_ …

A flicker of--something crosses its mindless eyes. It grows so still. It spasms, trembles, pants. Mouths leak so much, eyes leaking too.

Clear eyes glare at bright warm Stone and Stone-trapped shadow.

**Yes, free poor shadow…**

It coils tight around the Stone, feeling its heat, scorched by it. It shivers. Curved lower fangs scrape at it.

_Free and EAT IT!_

Deep down somewhere far off it struggles to remember, cling to those memories before _this_ , but the inviting screams of its insides are so much easier to accept.

_EAT_

Tired, clear eyes haze with its dizzying hunger. No use. There’s nothing else. It knows nothing else…

_EAT_

It opens its maw wide, weeping and slavering over its disgraceful, serrated teeth...

_**EAT!** _

and bites down.


End file.
